The Regular
by pencils-and-problems
Summary: The bartender at a local Gotham bar has a favorite customer that she wouldn't dare tell anyone about. Chapters may/may not have a plot; if you find a plot tell me, I'd like to know. Can be read as complete or continuous. Will be updated sporadically. Enjoy! (Note: my version of the Joker is based off of Heath Ledger's interpretation as well as a great deal of headcanon.)
1. Introduction

The man wearing the purple suit, his green hair hanging around his head in greasy strings, sauntered towards the bar. A large gun hung in his grasp, empty of bullets but still intimidating. The door slammed open, but nobody noticed. No one was in the bar except the bartender. She didn't notice him because she was accustomed to his presence. He always came in like this, knocking the door down at three in the morning, looking for a way to forget what he'd done that night.

"I assume it'll be the usual." He nodded, taking the seat directly in front of her. Technically, the bar wasn't open, but she always made an exception for him. He ran his fingers through his hair as she made his drink. The purple of his gloves contrasted nicely with his green hair, she mused as she watched him. She never had asked his name; she didn't have to. Anyone with eyes could see his characteristic makeup, his scarred smile.

The Joker was her favorite customer.


	2. Chapter 1

Taking the drink from her without a word, he downed it in a few seconds. She turned to refill his glass as he groaned, his head sinking to his hands. Then, uncharacteristically, he spoke. "I don't suppose you're a doctor, or nurse."

"No, I'm not, but I do have a med kit. What happened out there?" He sipped at his fresh glass, wincing as he gestured to his side.

"Took a bullet. Not too deep," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Didn't exactly see it coming." The dark eyes meeting hers told her little; they were much too closed off for her to read.

"Maybe if I look at it I can assess the damage, and apply a dressing," she kept her tone casual, not wanting to upset him. He was a dangerous man, however tamed he might be when he was in her bar. The hairs on her neck prickled as she felt him examine her, search her for malicious intent. Then he waved her over, taking his jacket off and setting it on the chair next to him. He wore a vest over his actual shirt, and she could see where the fabric had torn, blood seeping through to make a new shade of purple on his clothes. Unbuttoning his vest, she removed it as gently as she could, flinching at his sharp breath when the fabric pulled away from the wound. He sat quietly as she undid his tie and shirt buttons, silent when she bared his chest to the air. Her small gasp was for two reasons; one, she could now see the true damage of the bullet to his side; and two, she had _not_ expected him to be this...ripped. His abdominal muscles were clearly defined and his arms, god his arms... She bit her lip to keep her composure, turning her focus to the oozing gash in his side. The bullet hadn't lodged in him, which she hoped was good, but it was also still bleeding, which she assumed was bad. Pouring out peroxide into a handkerchief, she swabbed his cut, hearing a slight hiss from him as it stung. "Sorry, it needs to be cleaned. You're just going to have to sit this out, unless you want to go to a hospital."

He chuckled low, grinning his wider-than-normal grin. "I don't go to hospitals, I blow them up." She resisted rolling her eyes as she wrapped his side with bandages, staunching the flow from his side. When the job was done, she straightened up, catching his gaze. He didn't express any gratitude in his eyes, just a strange emotion she couldn't place, one that she'd seen a few times before. It unnerved her to the core.

Trying (and failing) not to look at his body, she went behind the bar again, taking his now empty glass and refilling it yet again. They said nothing the rest of the night, and after several hours of drinking, he stood, tossed a fifty on the counter, and walked out. Just like usual.


	3. Chapter 2

As another day wound to a close, she came in for her late shift. The bar was practically empty already, and it was nearly ten. Her coworker, Danny, handed her the keys as he grabbed his coat. "You take the late shift a lot," he commented casually, pulling his sleeves on. "Insomnia?"

Allowing a small grin to spread across her face, she replied carefully, "Something of the sort, yes."

"You just be careful, okay? This place is dead normally but sometimes unsavory characters show up. You're a beauti -" He cut himself off. "I mean, you're a woman -"

She placed a finger over his lips as a blush blossomed upon his cheeks. "I can take care of myself, okay? Don't worry." She wanted Danny out of there so she could wait for Him. After a short pause of indecision, Dan left, and she closed up shortly after.

Long hours later, when she was almost certain he wouldn't come, the door crashed open. He stumbled in, sopping wet and already drunk, it seemed. Strangely, she was somewhat hurt that he would have gone to another bar. She didn't have time to react before he sank to his knees, supporting himself on his gun. A string of choice expletives erupted from his mouth, and losing his balance he fell over to the floor. She ran to him then, kneeling on the hard ground as she searched him for injuries. Rolling him over onto his back, wincing for him when she heard his groans, she felt for injury. Unbuttoning his coat, she discovered that he had reopened the previous wound. He wasn't intoxicated, just in a lot of pain. "How did this happen?" she demanded.

"Tore it... jumping... through a window... whiskey, please." His makeup was half off, his face cleaned by rain. He was making a puddle on the floor, so she half-dragged him behind the counter, leaving the gun where it fell.

About an hour later, they sat together as she lectured him on taking care of a wound.

"You can't go jumping through windows like that, it's not safe."

"I don't play things safe." He tilted his glass back, swallowing the last drops of liquid.

"Well, maybe you should learn to." Her gaze caught his, bright eyes matching dark ones in ferocity and determination. They stared, neither wanting to back down. Finally, _he _looked away.

"You aren't a regular woman. Tell me," he gestured with his empty glass as he spoke, not yet meeting her gaze, "what's your name?"

"I... I'm _"

He smiled.

(A/N: Just insert your own name there.)


	4. Chapter 3

Since that night when she told him her name, she hadn't seen him nor heard of his actions. The city of Gotham was enjoying a crime-free streak. The only interesting thing on the news when she turned the TV on to keep her company was Bruce Wayne's charity ball. "Well, that sounds like a good target to rob," she mumbled, wondering if maybe the Joker would show up tonight. The bar was so dead at night, and honestly, she didn't understand why she still kept it open, but she couldn't give up on him. He might need her.

Turning away from the door, she watched the television flashing scenes of Mr. Wayne's party. Who was she kidding? He didn't need her. He just needed the thrill of the chase. He had once said to her, in his drunken haze, that he felt like a dog chasing cars. He couldn't think of what he'd do with money, or power, or whatever once he had it. He just did things.

She watched on the TV as he burst into the party, calling out, "We made it!"


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: OMG I didn't expect people to read this... exciting! Thanks for putting up with paragraphs instead of chapters! I'm going to make this one a little longer... hopefully...**

**Also, I'm sick of calling my character "her" and "she". I've been trying to keep it open for everyone to picture themselves there, but I'd like to give her a name. Maybe suggest one in a review? Your help is much appreciated.**

Her gaze was glued to the television, live streaming the events taking place at the Wayne penthouse party. The Joker stalked into the now silent room, grabbing some champagne as he spoke to the crowd. She laughed as he called out, "We are tonight's entertainment!" Clapping a hand over her mouth, she stifled her giggles, which soon turned into horror when she saw him threatening Rachel, Harvey's fiancée. Eyes wide, she listened to his entire speech, clutching at her own throat as she thought of the many times he could have done that to her. When he threw the other woman out the window, she stood and switched off the TV. Fear gripped her stomach, and she leaned on the counter for support. She had no idea he was that _bad._ The darkened bar suddenly seemed so much more forbidding, and she moved to lock the door. Once she had, she took her jacket, turned the dim lights off, and ran to her car. This place was too horrible now for her to stay.

Once at her car, she dug through her purse, looking for her keys. The dusty back light behind the bar where she was parked was impossible to see anything with, much less the shadow moving up behind her. When the gun was pressed into her back, she couldn't even scream she was so scared. A raspy voice snarled into her ear, "Give me the purse and get on the ground." Trembling, she handed the bag over and kneeled, putting her hands on her head as the man dug through her things. She heard her keys hit the ground next to her, and while he was distracted she took them in her hand, sliding them between her fingers to form claws. Standing silently, she stabbed her keys into his side with all the force she had. He grunted, grabbing her hands and slamming her head into the car door. Her limp form slid down to the ground as the man snatched her keys, climbed in her car, and revved the engine. She formed a bleak thought as she felt herself being dragged into the backseat; I wish he was here.

The arms holding her released their grip, and she fell limply on the backseat, passing out to the sound of a man's scream.

The Joker stood over her attacker's body, wiping his knife on a purple handkerchief. He gathered her belongings, putting them all into her purse and locking them in the car until he picked her unconscious form up and carried her into the bar.

Everything was blurry, at first. Then her vision focused, and she saw a pair of calloused hands moving away from her face. Those hands had just placed a damp rag on her forehead, cool and soothing to her aching cranium. She tried to sit up, but he gently lowered her back down. "Don't make blood rush to your head any more than it already is."

She obeyed, lying on the bar counter where she had awoken. She felt around her mouth with her tongue, noting a loose tooth and the tang of blood. Other than that, she seemed to be in one piece. He had taken care of her.

Everything she'd seen on the telly that night suddenly came back to her, and she tensed, not wanting to sit up but not wanting to stay one minute longer in this... monster's presence. How on earth could he have thrown a woman out a window, then just as calmly care for her after she'd been attacked by someone no different than him?

She sat up, swinging her legs over the counter and taking a few steps. Immediately, she collapsed on the floor. He sighed, coming out from behind the bar. Catching his gaze, she noticed he'd washed his makeup off. It made him so much more _human. _He helped her up, scolding her for standing. "You nearly died tonight, doll. Have you got a death wish?" He laughed. "Probably do, seeing as how much time you spend in my company."

Her nervous giggle and scared eyes made him suspicious. With narrowed gaze, he pinched her chin gently, turning her to face him. "Look at me, Look at me." Wide eyed, she met his gaze. Arching an eyebrow, he chuckled. "Chickie, were you watching the TV earlier? Catch my performance, maybe?" She nodded, not trusting her own tongue. He tutted. "Aw, well you know I'm not like that all the time! I can play nice," his grin was unsettling, to say the least. His rough touch on her face made her stomach flip with confusing and conflicting emotions. She'd really never gotten this close to the man, and now she didn't think she wanted it anymore. The ache in her head was getting worse, and he looked bigger, like he was coming closer... Then suddenly he _was_ closer, and leaning down... Then suddenly her eyes were closed, and all she could feel was this fire spreading out from the place where her lips touched his, flames that threatened to burn her very soul. THe fire raged and spread, and she could feel the heat in her cheeks and in her stomach. Tentative and still afraid, she touched his cheek softly. She could feel stubble, like he hadn't shaved in a few days. The texture was exciting, and everything simply felt so right, and so wonderful that she never wanted it to end. Too soon, he broke away. He grinned, and walked her back to the counter.

They staid there, sometimes talking, mostly kissing, until it was too late to be considered night anymore. He walked her to her car and watched her drive away, walking down the street to wherever he had come from, whistling a bright tune.


End file.
